


Crash

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-06
Updated: 2006-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It's a freefall, a glorious aching rush of air and a whirl of limbs and trees as the ground hurtles towards you, and you can only clutch at the bike and claw at his pale skin.</i></p><p>600 words. R. For the Snackathon on LJ. July 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash

It's no good, it won't work. The throttle's fucked up, or maybe it's the Charm, keeping her in the air but slicing through the tank and bleeding her dry. Doesn't really matter, because either way you're going down, hard and fast and with barely a courteous nod to the laws of gravity. All you can do is stare blindly at the curve of your fists around the handlebars, a jolt of adrenaline slamming through your body as you wonder how the _hell_ it ever came to this.

But there's no time to worry about that right now, because now he's seen you (of course – _fuck_) with all your vulnerabilities laid bare, tumbling from the sky like an angel with too much metal between your legs and too few wings on your back. He's seen you, and you can only imagine what you look like right now, with the night air rushing past you and chafing your lips.

You've got to bail out. You should never have pushed this fucking thing so far in the first place. It was only a harmless dare – _"Put her under the right spell and I bet she'll fly for you, Padfoot. You don't want to find out? Like hell you don't"_ – and now it's done, it's happening, and there's maybe five seconds left before you're lost to the devil forever.

You have to move. You have to do _something_, but not yet, not now, not when your body is thrumming like this, hot and hard and so _fucking_ angry because that Charm was _not_ supposed to fail. That bike was meant to stay in the air through anything. It could get slammed with a Bludger or a fucking missile and it wouldn't matter, she'd just keep sailing through that ink blue sky like a… well, like a motorcycle held up by magic, for fuck's sake.

Or like a man held up by what he knows to be true.

Trouble is, when truth shatters, the shards cut like ice – that cold, soothing burn that hurts like fuck and leaves you furious and addicted. And fucking _begging_ him to do it again.

You shift your body, trying like hell to stay in control, not to let him win, but he's hard as steel and you're slicked with oil and your brain has entirely shut down. You're going only on instinct here, on the sweet slide of your senses as you fall through the night, and you can't think of a single thing besides how good it feels and how sorry you're going to be when it's over.

It's a freefall now, a glorious aching rush of air and a whirl of limbs and trees as the ground hurtles towards you, and you can only clutch at the bike and claw at his pale skin. He sure as hell won't save you, but he might soften the landing if you can just get him to _move_ like that again, writhing underneath you with that angry growl and that desperate thrust of hips.

The air is gone, the night and the stars and the clouds are all far behind you now and you're coming, you're _crashing_, all fists and groans and rough grass under your knees as you slam into the ground, and you've never, ever felt more alive. There's no more breath in your lungs and no more energy to fight. You can leave the hatred for tomorrow, but for right now, and right here, you have everything you need.

Later, as you make your way home and wonder how the hell to fix it this time, you shake out a fag and bend your head, lighting it and taking a deep drag. Yeah. That's about what it feels like to fuck Severus Snape.

 

-fin-


End file.
